He was in a very cheerful state of mind, for he had found awaiting him a cordial letter from the great financial authority he had come to meet. And also he had had time to forget the at once solemn and rather painful impression Lily’s farewell had made on him. Nay, more, he had half persuaded himself by now that that strange good-bye kiss had been a sign that she was softening towards him. His mother was not only a clever woman, she also had a shrewd knowledge of human nature. She was probably right in thinking that if he were only patient he would win Lily in the end.
He was hesitating as to whether he should go to bed, or saunter along to his club, when he heard a low knock at the door which opened on one of the landings of the huge old house where he had his rooms. Feeling rather surprised, for no one yet knew of his return, he went and opened the door—and then a thrill of irritation shot through him, for a slim, deeply-veiled woman stood out there, in the dim light cast by the staircase lantern.
He knew, only too well, who his visitor was.
“This is really wrong, and most imprudent, Livia,” he said sharply. “I should not have told you the hour of my arrival had I known that you would do this mad thing!”
She threw back her veil, and he was startled at the look of strain and anguish on her pale face.
“What is it?” he exclaimed. “Has anything happened to—to——”
“No, nothing has happened to my husband; and he knows, Beppo, that I am here.”
“He knows that you are here?”
He was thoroughly startled and alarmed now. What was it she had come to say?
He drew her gently through into his ante-chamber. Then he shut the door.